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"At
first his disciples did not understand all this." Jn. 12:16
No man "pours new wine into old
wineskins. If they do, the skins
will burst, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins,
and both are preserved." (Matt.
9:17).
I must admit, I don't feel
as if I have a good handle on this text. There are things about it that escape me. I'd like to nail everything down, but I
can't. For instance, what was the
crowd thinking when it celebrated the entrance of Jesus, shouting, “Blessed
is the King of Israel!” Did any of
them know this king would be crowned with thorns rather than gold? Did any of them really understand he
would soon be dangling dead from a cross? And what's this about the donkey? I know what the scholars say: it was a
lowly animal of peace (in contrast to the war horse), and it was the royal
mount preferred by David and his sons. But it seems odd nonetheless that David
would have chosen a donkey in the first place. And what about the palm branches? What’s that about? How is it that that got started? We pass them out every year, and feel a
bit squeamish about them, and, as Lutherans, hold them with our hymnal with
proper modesty and restraint. And
where was this crowd later in the week?
They seem so boisterous and bold.
But on Friday, these loud, cheering people are no where to be
seen. Where did they all go?
So there are things about
this text that are elusive, and that is emblematic of the Bible as a whole.
Not everything fits into clean,
neat, and tidy categories. So also
with Jesus. Just when I think I am
beginning to understand him, he changes everything. What would Jesus do in this or that
circumstance? Many times, I haven’t
the foggiest idea. Even the twelve
disciples who were there didn’t get it.
Those who knew Jesus best, those who had been following him full
time for three years, listening to him and studying him as he interacted
with others, even these were left scratching their heads. From verse 16, quote: “They did not understand all this” (v.
16).
So, if all this religious
stuff sometimes feels foreign and unfamiliar, you’re in good company. Part of it is that we live in a world of
astronauts shuttling back and forth between the earth and a space station,
but we’re reading of a world where a man could go only as fast as a horse
could carry him. These things
happened two thousand years ago on the other side of the planet. But
another part of it is this: we are
sinners. Without the Spirit of God giving
us understanding, all these things are foolishness to us (1 Cor.
2:14). And another part of it is we
cannot expect this gray matter within the small radius of our heads to
comprehend it all. Every time we
crack open our Bibles, we’re brushing up against the wisdom of almighty
God. In Isaiah, he tells us, “My thoughts
are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways” declares the Lord in
Isaiah. “As the heavens are higher
than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than
your thoughts” (Is. 55:8-9). If the one we worship makes total sense to us,
it’s probably not God whom we are worshipping, but an idol carved by our
own intellects.
Confirmands, this is
especially for you. You may feel as
if you are not ready. Because of
where Easter landed this year, we covered a lot of things in very little
time. But trust me, even if you were
there, following Jesus for three years, as were the first disciples, you
would still feel this way. We “did
not understand these things” John admits. Then again, maybe you’re not
worried about this at all. Maybe
you’re just glad it’s over.
My
wife and I were in Madison
a couple of weeks ago, in search of a confirmation gift. We stopped by at a store, and the woman
asked what the occasion was. She was
a talkative one, in her forties. She
volunteered how dull her confirmation experience was, how very glad she still
is that it’s all over. She didn’t
know I was a pastor and I wasn’t about to tell her. This was good stuff and I was taking
mental notes for today. And so she
carried on about how happy she was to be a Lutheran rather than a Catholic. It wasn’t about any doctrinal
differences. It was because our
confirmation process is only three years long. I was beginning to look for paper and
pencil when Gail pulled me away as we were already running late. Maybe some
of you share this woman’s sentiments.
However, let me tell you this.
Confirmation is not
graduation from Christian education.
None of you knows this stuff nearly well enough, nor do I. I had a Biblical Hebrew professor at the
University of Wisconsin who said you don’t know the Bible until you can open
it to a random page and take a pin and press it through a half dozen pages
of text, and know without looking, on what word the tip of the pin is
resting. Don't you ever feel content
with what you know of God’s Word. Don’t any of you become biblically
smug. In fact, that is a plague on
our synod, a biblical complacency bordering on illiteracy with which we are
quite content. Yet, if we give God’s
Word just half a chance, and it will stretch us to the breaking point in no
time.
Jesus once said, men don’t
“pour new wine into old wineskins.
If they do, the skins will burst, the wine will run out and the wineskins
will be ruined. No, they pour new
wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.” In ancient times goatskins were used to
hold wine. As the fresh grape juice fermented,
the wine would expand and the new wineskin would stretch. But a used skin, already stretched once,
could stretch no further. If new
wine were put in it again, it would burst.
In the same way, Jesus continues to bring a newness to us that cannot
be confined, cannot be held unless we’re willing to stretch some, and that
can be terribly uncomfortable.
That first holy week, there
were many old wineskins in Jerusalem
trying to accommodate new wine. That
is, the people thought they knew what Jesus was up to, what he was all
about, what the plan was. They
welcomed him, cheered him on as "King of Israel." They were ready to follow this king into
glory. But then he started talking
of his imminent death. Well that
just turned everything upside down and inside out. "What’s this about a cross?” they
ask. Old wineskins all over Jerusalem began to
stretch and crackle.
Later, on Thursday, after
the evening meal, Jesus did something extraordinary. He got up, took off his outer clothing,
and wrapped a towel around his waist, and started washing the feet of his
disciples. But this was for slaves,
not masters. If anything, this was
for disciples, not their teachers. The twelve were stunned, even more so
when Jesus implied they too were to be about the work of serving others,
humbly, quietly, without recognition or reward. A dozen old wineskins began to leak pretty
badly. That’s not what they signed
up for.
That same night, Jesus picked
up some bread, looked his disciples squarely in the eyes, and said, with
all seriousness, "This is my body." Then he took a cup of wine, and said,
"This is my blood shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins." Twelve old wineskins burst on the spot,
and deflated as their new content gushed out.
Within twenty four hours, he
would hang on a cross, lifeless, limp, dead in every way. All over Jerusalem
and Galilee, in the dark of night, one
could hear the sound of thousands of old wineskins popping. It was like the 4th of July
out there.
For us too, this religious
stuff is okay so long as it’s comfortable and soothing and simple, but that
other part . . . that part about a world in great need of our voice, our
money, our service, that part we are tempted to leave behind. Jesus was not crucified in a cathedral
between two candles, but on a cross, between two thieves, at the town
garbage heap, the kind of place where cynics talk smut and thieves curse
and soldiers, (jaded by their bloody duty), gleefully gamble and mock,
while a mother weeps and followers hide.
That is where he died. This
is what he died for. And this is
where church people ought to be, not just on our padded chairs here, but out
there, in that world . . . with crosses . . . doing the work God created us
to do.
“His disciples did not
understand all this” writes John in our text. Truth be told, we’re still trying to take
it all in as well, what his cross means for us and for our salvation. Luther wrote, “for where there is
forgiveness of sins, there is life and salvation.” We must confess with the psalmist,
"Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to
attain" (Ps. 139:6). And one of
the beautiful old prayers we pray at every funeral goes like this: "Help us, we pray, in the midst of
things we cannot understand to believe in and find comfort in the communion
of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and the
life everlasting."
Shortly [at the 10:30
service], we will hear 21 young people renounce the devil and confess that
they intend, by the grace of God, to remain faithful to God. Their faith will be challenged in ways
that our faith never was. And who
knows what kind of world they will live in?
Who knows, when they’re watching T.V. years from now, and the program is abruptly interrupted by
a national anchorman with breaking news . . . who knows what kind of world
they will live in after that announcement.
Perhaps it feels that’s the world some of you already live in, in
the middle of an unwelcome surprise, in a marriage that isn’t going well,
in a job that is growing in complexity and frustration, or with a disease
you cannot understand or control. Think
not on the pain of being stretched and challenged to the breaking point. Think
on the one who was broken for you, the one who loves you, forgives you . .
. the one who thinks of you has his own child through Holy Baptism, the one
who is absolutely determined to preserve you and bring you home.
I am reminded of another
beautiful old prayer that we’ve been praying Wednesday Lenten service. It’s a personal favorite, ancient, but relevant
to this day (and to these young people dressed in white): “Lord God, You have called Your servants
to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden,
through perils unknown. Give us
faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go but only that
Your hand is leading us and Your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ.”
In the end, we won’t ever understand
all of it or enough of it. In the
end, what’s important is that he understands us. "I know my sheep . . . And I lay down
my life for the sheep" (Jn. 10:14ff).
It's not a matter of searching and knowing God, it’s a matter of him
knowing exactly where we are and what we need. “O Lord, you have searched me and you know
me. You know when I sit and when I
rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with
all my ways. Before a word is on my
tongue you know it completely” (Ps. 139).
In the end, what’s important is not the ability to remember chapter
number and verse, but that he remembers you. “Can a mother forget the baby at her
breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will never
forget you! See, I have engraved you
on the palms of my hands” (Is. 49:15).
And, in the end, it's not a matter of how much of you own. It’s a matter of who owns you. By grace, you are and will remain a sheep
of his own fold, a lamb of his own flock, a sinner of his own
redeeming. Thanks be to God! Amen.
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